On a Day Like Today
by Aussiegirl41
Summary: Bill wants Laura to move in with him on Galactica. How will she tell him the one particular reason why she's resisting? Timeline: Dirty Hands through to He that Believeth in Me
1. Chapter 1

Bill was sitting at his desk completing his logs when Laura slipped through the hatch.

She stood and watched him covertly for a moment. She wondered just how much of a toll today had taken on him. He looked exhausted; how much more could he withstand? He had such strength, and she'd been taking advantage of that ever since returning from New Caprica. She'd been letting him take the punches for her.

"Hey," she whispered.

She liked the way his mouth curved into a smile at the sound of her voice.

She walked over and sat down beside him, unable to stop her hand from brushing against the sleeve of his uniform. "Why don't you come over to the couch and have a rest? The President isn't going to demand a copy of these."

"It helps me slow down," he explained. "Strangely, I find it relaxing."

"Surely there's something else you can do to relax?" she asked saucily.

He raised an eyebrow and they both laughed.

Their banter had become such a familiar routine. It was nice, a break from reality. Their flirting meant nothing, but represented everything.

"Have you ordered dinner?"

"Yeah, but it won't be just us. Lee and Dee will be here soon."

She tried not to show her disappointment. She had come to treasure the time she and Bill spent sharing an evening meal together. Bill was the only one she could truly be herself around.

Bill squeezed her hand. "I know," he said, as if she had voiced her anxious thoughts out loud.

She felt a gentle smile tug at the corners of her mouth. She always surprised herself with the amount of tenderness she felt towards this man. Unable to resist, she leaned over and kissed him softly.

"Dad."

Laura jumped back at the sound of Lee's voice behind her.

"Son," Bill greeted Lee. He gave Laura's hand another squeeze before releasing it to stand and kiss Dee on the cheek. "Dinner should be here in a moment. I'll get us some drinks."

"You're staying for dinner, Madam President?" Lee asked stiffly.

Laura hesitated. Maybe she should return to _Colonial One _and let Bill have dinner alone with his family.

"Yes," Bill answered for her.

"I thought you told Kara tonight was only for family," Lee snarled.

Bill flashed his son an irritated glance over his shoulder. "Kara is family, she knows that."

Laura bit down on her lip to prevent herself from also snapping at Lee.

Dee hovered behind her husband. Had Bill insisted on Kara not attending tonight to save Dee the discomfort of dining with her rival? It sounded like something Bill would do. Taking punches for Dee as well.

She hadn't realised that Bill knew about Lee and Kara's affair. They had never discussed it. However, it had become apparent to Laura some time ago. She knew the signs, after all.

Bill returned to her side, handed her a glass, and gently gripped her elbow. "I also consider Laura to be family," he declared.

Lee's gaze darted between his father and Laura. Bill tilted his chin up, almost daring Lee to make another snide remark.

Laura looked away, sipping her drink to calm her suddenly fraught nerves.

Luckily there was a tap on the hatch announcing the arrival of their dinner, stalling any further debate about her place in the Adama family.

Laura smiled as Bill manoeuvred his guests to ensure that no one sat at the ends of the dining table. Instead she and Bill sat together on one side, with Lee and Dee across from them. It was a cosy, intimate setting, one that should befit a family. Lee obviously didn't share her warm feelings about the situation.

"I'm surprised the President found it necessary to shuttle over to _Galactica _tonight, considering the fuel situation."

Laura's mouth twisted. Lee was right. She shouldn't have wasted fuel to come over here tonight. It was one of the things that infuriated her more and more about Lee: his annoying tendency to be right.

"The President has resolved the Union dispute." Bill once again took Lee's punch on his own chin. "We'll begin refuelling in the morning."

"It's over?" Dee asked, freely showing her relief.

"I resolved it with the Admiral's help," Laura murmured.

The strike had stirred up memories of Richard, and she couldn't help but compare her ex-lover's behaviour with Bill's. Richard had done nothing but undermine her efforts with the teachers' strike on Caprica. Bill had done everything in his power to support her.

"So, the tylium workers agreed to go back to work just like that?" Lee snapped his fingers as well as his words. "What incentive did you offer them?"

Laura held her breath for a few moments, resisting the urge to go into full presidential mode.

"Chief Tyrol and I sorted out two or three strategies that can be put into place immediately," she eventually settled on saying.

"Maybe you should have let Vice President Zarek handle the negotiations. He's more qualified when it comes to understanding working-class people."

She forked some of the algae concoction into her mouth, chewing it as slowly and as deliberately as she could.

Beside her Bill snorted in disgust. "Laura's the President. She knows what she's doing."

"So no one is allowed to offer an opinion? That's how rumours about dictatorships start."

Laura felt Bill's palm rub along her thigh under the table before he once again stepped in to answer his son. "We all have our jobs to do. Laura's the President. Let her run the government how she sees fit. She doesn't offer you opinions on how to fly a Viper. "

"I think that was the tylium workers' point. They'd been told they had a job to do, and to keep their mouths shut and do it."

Laura couldn't hold her tongue any longer. "A lot of their issues come from having a lack of downtime. The monotonous nature of their lives in the refinery differs greatly from yours. They are sitting in the same ship, doing the same menial task, day in and day out."

"But you're not seeing the point," Lee argued, "I have no other recourse than to be a Viper pilot."

"We need every good Viper pilot we can get," Bill interrupted. Then, he changed the subject: "Would anyone like me to order coffee or dessert?"

"No thanks," they all said in unison.

0.0.0

Laura fell backwards onto the couch.

"Oh, was he like that as a child?"

Bill chuckled, sat down beside her and lifted her lower legs to lay them upon his lap.

"I guess I wasn't there enough to realise. He was pretty quiet when I was at home. Zak was always the one in trouble."

Laura hummed. "Classic first child syndrome?"

He ran his finger across the arch of her foot, making her giggle and kick out at him.

"Don't! You know I'm ticklish there," she cried.

He obeyed her gentle protest, moving to massage her ankle.

"He was spoiled by his parents until Zak came along," she mused, almost to herself. "Then, Zak became the cute one who made everyone laugh. Or, knowing you, you subconsciously viewed Zak as the weakest Adama and you went into protective mode with him – unwittingly making Lee jealous."

"You gonna become my therapist?"

She smiled. "Maybe. You've acted as mine for long enough."

"I wish. I can't decide who's more stubborn: you, Saul, or Kara. None of you will open up and talk to me about New Caprica."

Her smile vanished.

She knew that Bill was happy when he'd learned the three people closest to him had survived the occupation. But had they really?

Saul spent long hours in his rack, draped in Ellen's clothes, drinking.

According to Bill, Kara had made progress. She'd stopped fighting with the other pilots, at least. The death of one of her fellow pilots during the journey to the algae planet had proven a perverse blessing in that regard. But it was tiny steps.

And as for herself…

"Frakkin' New Caprica. Gaius frakkin' Baltar."

He winced. Laura rarely swore, but she had to admit she had resorted to crude language quite often lately, usually when discussing Baltar. _Gaius frakkin' Baltar_. She called him that over and over again.

"If I wasn't so wrapped up in this frakking trial," she continued, and still swearing, "so uptight about his frakking manifesto, then I might not have had my head up my ass, and I might have sorted out this whole tylium ship mess without so much unnecessary heartache."

"We'll get there."

She tried to smile, but it didn't quite happen. She knew Bill felt so useless when they spoke about New Caprica. She knew he felt like all he could offer her were pathetic platitudes.

But she readily accepted them. She was just happy he was still here, by her side.

He had tried to push her away once. He'd stood in the ring and declared that he was going to be a soldier, a great leader of men, a loyal patriot-all that but no more.

Thankfully, his resolution had lasted barely a few days.

Bill Adama wasn't the type of man who could just switch off his emotions.

She knew what had happened today. He'd ordered Cally's execution. But she also knew he would never have let the Marine pull the trigger. He couldn't stop himself from caring, loving. Kat, Helo, Athena, Hera, Dee, Tyrol, Cally, her. He'd always cared about her, it seemed...

"I wish I could take you back to_ Colonial One _with me," she murmured.

His hand had crept higher, circling her right knee.

"What were you planning on doing with me on_ Colonial One_?"

She giggled. "Not what you're insinuating, Admiral."

"Pity." He squeezed her knee, and his hand slid higher still.

"I was thinking more of a nice relaxing massage," she said as he traced circles on her thighs, making her wriggle in response. Sadly, his hand settled back onto her knee. But at least she could think clearly again, so she returned to the previous topic. "I've had insomnia," she admitted.

"Nightmares?"

"No, not really. I'm just having trouble getting to sleep in the first place. I'm the crazy old lady rattling around the ship at all hours of the night. The location of my new quarters isn't helping," she grumbled. "It's noisier than where my bed used to be. Is your offer still open?"

"No. I'm sorry, Laura. I have to take back that offer," he said in his most serious voice.

"Oh?" She raised one eyebrow and her teeth bit down on her lower lip to suppress her giggle. She knew him better than any other woman alive. She knew he would never be so impolite as to refuse her request for sanctuary aboard the _Galactica_.

"Yeah, it's no longer one of my beds. It's my bed."

"Your bed only?"

She played along with his repartee, just as he knew she would. They'd been trading witty remarks for two years now; it was second nature.

"Yeah, my rack to be exact. I really think we both need to catch up on some well-deserved sleep."

"Last time I slept with you, you snored all night, kept me awake."

"That's not fair. I was stoned. And I don't remember you complaining at the time."

Why were they talking about that night again? They'd only rehashed it a few days ago. They needed to let it go. Of course, she couldn't. And apparently, he couldn't either.

Bill pulled her up until they were face to face on the couch. "Laura, something important happened between us on Founder's Day. Before then, you'd spent time with me because you were the President and I was the Admiral. That afternoon..." Bill took a deep breath. "That afternoon and that night, you sought my company for no other reason but to spend time with me. That's why it's special to me. Laura wanted to spend her time with Bill. I knew I loved you before then, but that night I fell in love with you all over again."

He leaned in and kissed her tenderly.

"Come and live with me," he pleaded, now completely serious.

"Bill," she gasped. "You know I can't." She hadn't been expecting this. "The President can't move in with the head of the military. Your own son is having a difficult time accepting me staying for dinner."

"I couldn't care less about the Fleet. It's selfish, but it's true. I rarely get anything I want in this life. Even when I thought I had - Carolanne, my sons, a career in the Fleet - fate stepped in and snatched it away from me. I want you, Laura. Surely, just this once…"

"Bill..." She repeated his name, as she couldn't seem to articulate any other words. She could think of a thousand reasons why she shouldn't agree to such a thing, and only one reason why she could. And that one seemed to be the most compelling argument at the moment. "I can't—" she began.

"Yes, you can," he growled, "you're not giving everyone enough credit. Do you seriously think that after what we've all gone through with the Cylon attacks, with New Caprica, with the food shortage, with one crisis after another, anyone would care if we share quarters?"

After he'd finished his tirade, Laura slowly, almost methodically, unwound her legs from his lap and stood. She very carefully avoided his gaze. If she looked into his eyes…

She retrieved her shoes and jacket. Bill sat silent, but she knew his gaze was following her every movement.

"I need to go. Your LSO asked if I could shuttle back at 2300 hours."

Bill made no move to stop her, but remained seemingly paralysed on the couch.

Even when she kissed his cheek and whispered 'good night' before walking out the hatch, he never said a word.


	2. Chapter 2

Laura boarded the shuttle, and introduced herself politely to her fellow passengers: apparently a medic from the _Rising Star_ and his patient, a pilot from _Pan Galactic_ who'd needed to see Doctor Cottle when a cut had become infected.

The medic looked no older than the teenagers she used to teach, and he was clearly too overwhelmed by her status to hold a conversation. His patient also remained mute. She conceded it was possible he was too pumped up on drugs to even be able to exchange words.

However, their attitudes still reminded Laura of why she constantly sought out Bill's company.

She should have stayed and talked things over with him tonight. Instead of practically running from his quarters after he'd made his all-too-tempting offer. If only he knew how close she'd come to immediately agreeing to his proposal.

"Madam Pres," a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Kara." Laura blinked, surprised. "You're piloting the Raptor?"

"Yeah. It's okay. I know how to fly one," Kara joked before flopping down into the pilot's seat. "I'll drop these two off first."

Laura nodded and clipped herself into the complicated restraints like a veteran, which she was, when she thought about the number of times she'd now flown in these shuttlecraft. Then she leaned back against the bulkhead, Bill's invitation still prominent in her mind.

She wondered what his conditions were.

_His rack,_ he'd said. _Sleep_, he'd promised. She could do with some sleep. In fact, she could do with a lot of sleep. But what about when they weren't asleep?…

"Madam Pres?" Kara's hand tapped her gently on the shoulder, making her eyes fly open. "You asleep?"

"No," she denied, but then realised that they were alone in the Raptor. She'd been so wrapped up in her thoughts, she hadn't even noticed the landing on the _Rising Star_ or her fellow passengers disembarking.

"I thought you might like to sit up with me," Kara offered. "I could do with some female company."

"Um, of course," she agreed uncertainly. She and Kara didn't really have the sort of relationship that included confidential girl talk.

After settling into the co-pilot's seat, Laura studied Kara's profile. If possible, the young girl looked more tired than Laura felt.

"Aren't you flying your Viper in the morning?" Laura asked.

Bill's crew had found a small planet nearby that had high levels of radiation, and he hoped they'd be shielded from Cylon detection while they refuelled. It was still dangerous, considering how many days they'd need to linger there. She presumed they'd need every Viper pilot on board to protect the Fleet when they started the operation in the morning.

"Yeah, sure."

"But you're flying tonight as well?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Kara replied to Laura's tacit disapproval of her doing a double shift. "Nothing to rush home for."

"You and Sam…" she began tentatively.

"He's not living on _Galactica_. I'm in the pilots' quarters. There're no married crew quarters available. We're on the list," she said in a sulky tone, reminding Laura that Lee and Dee had been accommodated with family quarters after they returned from the _Pegasus_.

"You know what I hate the most about New Caprica? It gave me hope. Sam and I got to live together like a real couple, and for a while there, we were happy."

Kara glanced at Laura as she explained. Then she quickly looked back out at the stars, apparently intent on checking their path through the Fleet.

After a brief silence, Kara snorted. "Hell, who would have thought that Kara Thrace would enjoy domesticity?"

"We should have known it couldn't last," Laura whispered, remembering her lake, her cabin, her dreams…

"Sam's so frakking understanding. It drives me insane. I'm not used to people just asking how my day was."

Laura remained silent as Kara manoeuvred the Raptor alongside _Colonial One_ to dock. Then, she thought she should at least try and give the girl some sort of guidance. Kara had obviously reached some sort of desperate point in her life if she was confiding in her.

"Maybe you should just let him ask," she suggested.

"It's in my nature to keep fighting," Kara admitted. "I'm scared of what will happen if I stop and just let him look after me."

Laura bit down on her lip, and then closed her eyes briefly. What sort of advice could she give Kara? Her own life was just as confusing, she was just as scared, and she didn't seem to be any closer to sorting things out than Kara was.

"I know exactly how you feel," she said on a sigh.

Kara looked over at Laura again as the Raptor powered down.

"Yeah, you've got the greatest when it comes to caring. I bet the Old Man asks you how your day was."

Laura was spared from answering and revealing any personal details about her relationship with Bill when the girl asked: "You think the trial will help things?"

"Yes, no… I don't know… I hope," she replied truthfully.

"Yeah, me too."

.0.0.

Laura couldn't sleep—again. She'd tried reading, but her mind kept racing. She'd paced restlessly around her bedroom, then her office. She had made herself some tea and walked around the silent _Colonial One_, checking on the progress of the repairs. Finally, she'd indulged in the hottest shower the ship's plumbing could provide.

Now, her mind was still whirling with questions she didn't want to ask or have answered.

She stared down at the phone beside her bed. It was late. Bill was due to be on duty in CIC in a few hours' time. It was selfish to wake him.

She picked up the receiver and dialled the number that would directly connect her to his quarters.

"Adama," his voice rasped down the line.

She closed her eyes and reclined in her small cot. Just the sound of him saying his own name made her feel more relaxed.

"Laura?" he guessed.

"I can't sleep," she murmured.

"So you thought I should suffer the same fate?"

She smiled, and tears sprung into her eyes.

"I used to smoke," she admitted. "Cigarettes," she added.

"I can't imagine. You know I've got something I can hold over you now. Cottle would be very interested in that information."

She snorted and giggled. "If he suddenly has knowledge of my secrets, I'll know who the source was, Admiral," she teased back.

His rich chuckle came down the line.

"This is when I feel tempted to start again."

"When you're flirting with the Admiral on the telephone?"

"No!" she laughed again. "Bill, don't be an idiot," she gently chided. Then, she sobered as she said, "When I can't sleep."

"I could see if I can get Cottle to give up a packet for you. At least _I_ might get some sleep then."

"Bill—"

"Laura, I love you," he interrupted.

She couldn't answer. She gripped the telephone, letting his steady breathing on the other end wash over her.

"I love you," he repeated, "but I understand; it's not enough."

"Bill—"

"We just won't talk about it again."

"Bill, will you stop cutting me off!" She paused, and took a deep breath. "It's enough, honey. It's enough," she assured him. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." She glanced up at the clock. "Today."

"You'll come for dinner tonight?"

"Yes."

"Good night, Laura."

"Good night, Bill."

Laura hung up and walked over to her dressing table. She reached out and tilted the mirror until she could view her chest. She slipped her nightgown off her shoulders and studied the irregular ridges across her left breast for the third time in the last hour. The new dimples, which spread down toward the lymph glands of her underarm, were still there.


	3. Chapter 3

Bill was fussing with the place settings on the dining table when Laura arrived the next night.

She came up behind him and spoke near his ear. "I don't need silver service, Admiral."

"You are the President, are you not?" he asked, adding a cloth napkin beside each place with a flourish before turning and giving her a dazzling smile.

"It's just us tonight," he added. Then, his next words made her head jerk up and tears gather in her eyes immediately: "Why don't I get you a drink, and then you can tell me how your day was."

Bill noticed her distress immediately. "Laura?" He took a step towards her and cupped her cheek. "What's wrong? You're not still upset about my proposal?"

Her only reply was to sniff.

"I'm sorry, I can't take it back. I want you here with me more than anything. But I understand you need time to get used to the idea."

"That's not it, Bill," she said truthfully. She shrugged, wondering how she was ever going to explain how his casual words meant so much to her. "It's something Kara said."

"Kara?"

"Yes. She was my pilot last night. She seemed…" Laura frowned, trying to think of a way to describe Kara's mood.

"I know how she is. Lee and I have discussed it. She just needs some more time."

Laura snorted. "That's your solution for all your women? Give them time, and they'll eventually come around to your way of thinking?"

A faint flush spread across Bill's face, and he bowed his head to study his boots intently. He caught a glimpse of the bag she carried in a loose hold by her side. It wasn't the usual briefcase that she transported her folders and files in, but an old duffle bag which tonight contained her nightshirt, toiletries, and a suit to wear tomorrow.

He looked up, his face confused and hopeful at the same time.

"It's just for tonight," she said quickly. "I made Tory change a few meetings around and found an excuse to stay on _Galactica_.

"Why?" he croaked.

She dumped the bag on the floor and wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek on his chest. "You promised me sleep," she murmured, avoiding the complete truth with a half-truth.

He leaned back, out of her embrace. His hands idly swept her hair behind her ears.

"The cure for the President's insomnia may result in the Admiral suffering from the same illness."

She tilted her head to one side, baffled. "Why?"

"Because, with you close, I'll want to do this all night."

As soon as he finished speaking, he swooped down and captured her lips in a slow, exploratory kiss which caused her to sag against him in an effort to stay upright. They parted, both breathing heavily. She licked her lips, savouring the feeling a little longer. Disappointingly, instead of offering her more, he pushed her upright and gave her a worried look.

"Have you been to the gym again?" he asked, his hands creeping around to span her waist experimentally.

"No," she said honestly.

"You've lost weight. Is your insomnia that bad? This frakking trial's getting to you? You haven't been eating?"

Laura's mouth twisted. "I eat here every night usually, so you know I've been eating," she reminded him. "One doesn't put on weight when one's entire diet consists of algae."

Bill grunted and went to pour them both a drink.

She sat down at the table and busied herself by setting out the food from a tray which had been delivered from the galley earlier.

Like Bill, she didn't need a set of scales to know she'd lost weight. At first, she had just assumed it was a result of the algae diet combined with the stress from Baltar's trial and the strike on the tylium ship. Since she'd noticed the changes in her breast, though, her sudden and rapid weight loss had more sinister overtones.

Bill sat down opposite her and handed her a wine glass. She sniffed its contents: water.

"You have to use your imagination," he explained, holding his hand up to propose a toast.

Laura hummed and raised her glass in return. "To us," she declared, and then realised what she'd said. Flustered, she lowered her glass back to the table. She couldn't yet admit that she and Bill were an 'us'.

Bill reached out and gripped her wrist, rubbing his thumb over her prominent veins there. "Eat, Laura," he ordered gruffly. "Then, you'll sleep. We have plenty of time to talk."

After that, their evening progressed much less tumultuously. They chatted over dinner about various subjects without any disagreements. They were able to bring up Kara, Lee and Dee, the refuelling status, even Baltar and his trial, without causing either of them indigestion or heartache.

After dinner, they took it in turns to use the bathroom and settled onto the couch with a book each. Laura took up her usual position, lying back with her legs draped across Bill's lap. He absentmindedly stroked her calves as he read.

Laura didn't read. Instead, she studied him. He looked as tired as she felt. She glanced at the clock; it was only 2100 hours, but the thought of lying in the rack with him, his arms wrapped securely around her, appealed more than reading at this point.

He looked up when she tossed her book and glasses onto the coffee table. She pried his book out of his hands and set it down next to hers.

"Laura?"

She ignored the tentative question in his tone, and instead carefully removed his glasses. Then she shifted to straddle his lap, stroking her thumbs gently across his cheeks as she held his gaze.

"I'm sure you've heard it a million times, but your eyes are so beautiful."

He gave her a crooked grin. "Maybe not a million times…"

She snorted and leaned down until their foreheads were touching.

"Come to bed. You promised me sleep," she whispered.

She lifted herself off him and headed towards the rack. He followed, turning off several lights, the glow of the status screens near his desk allowing her to still see.

After he joined her next to the rack, he quickly undressed down to his tanks and boxers. She let her eyes linger longingly on the muscular shape his choice of sleeping attire displayed. He lay down on the rack with his back against the bulkhead, lifting the blanket up as an invitation for her to squeeze in beside him.

She'd slept in his rack once before, after they had interrogated Baltar. She'd been exhausted, mentally and physically. They'd talked and then Bill had left, leaving her to relax in peace. There had been nothing sexual about it. But now, with his added bulk, the rack's size seemed to contract, making her nervous as well as exhilarated.

"We're lucky I've lost weight after all," she joked, pressing herself into the warmth of his chest.

His left hand snaked around and curled its way under her nightshirt. Laura stiffened – would he be able to feel the uneven skin of her breast?

"Sorry," he apologised immediately and withdrew his hand, as usual sensing her discomfort.

"No!" she almost shouted. She took his hand and placed it just above her hip. "I like," she said simply.

Laura closed her eyes, letting the different, but instantly recognisable and comforting, sensations of being with Bill wash over her - his body pressed against her back, his warm hand spread across her bare skin, his hot breath tickling her ear.

Memories of other nights like this returned.

"Why didn't we ever have sex on New Caprica?" she asked.

"We were getting to know each other without the presidency getting in the way."

"Yes. We didn't want to confuse things," she agreed.

"Take it slow."

"You're a gentleman."

"Go to sleep, Laura. There are limits to my nobility," he chided gently.

Deciding that obeying the head of the military was a good idea, she closed her eyes.

Laura woke up, disorientated. Panicky, she sat up, momentarily unsure of where she was, until the familiar colours and furnishings of Bill's quarters calmed her. Behind her, Bill grumbled in his sleep.

She peered across at the digital readout of his alarm clock and saw that it was almost four o'clock in the morning.

Appreciating that she hadn't slept this well in weeks, she melted back down to snuggle into Bill's warmth again.

He grumbled again and his hand instinctively dragged her closer. So close she could feel he was having quite pleasant dreams himself. His erection pressed hard into the cheek of her buttock.

She distinctly heard her name in amongst his incoherent mutterings. His hips rocked and his erection brushed against her upper thigh, then her buttock again, and then higher up. The silky texture of the boxers kept pressing into her panties and the surrounding skin enticingly.

It would be so easy to turn around, and…

Instead, she lifted his arm, jumped up and escaped to the head, pushing the hatch almost closed. She splashed some water on her flushed face, and stared into the mirror.

Ripping her nightshirt up and off, she threw it angrily in a heap beside her feet.

She lifted her left arm, bending it at the elbow and clasping her hand around the nape of her neck. She pressed the fingers of her other hand into her skin in a circular motion, probing and searching for lumps, especially under the skin that appeared to be irregular.

She knew what she was feeling for. She remembered the lump that had been there when she'd arrived for the decommissioning ceremony; knew how it had felt the morning she'd found it in the shower, knew how it felt a month later, and how it felt a few months after that.

Ten minutes later, she bent down to pick up her nightshirt before pulling it back on. She'd found nothing. Perhaps there was a simple explanation for the unusual texture of her skin; something to do with the algae, perhaps. She might have been jumping to conclusions all along.

She left the head and padded silently back to Bill's rack.

He'd rolled over in his sleep and was now facing the bulkhead.

She slid beneath the covers and nestled into his back.

If she was cancer-free, she and this kind and generous man could be together in every way.

She slipped back to sleep, hopeful at last for their future.


	4. Chapter 4

Laura tapped her pencil on the desk. She couldn't focus on the reports laid out before her.

Tory had noticed her distraction this morning. She'd let out a martyred sigh whenever she was forced to remind Laura of the task at hand. Then, a few minutes ago, she'd tetchily asked if Laura intended to spend the night on _Galactica_ again, since if that was the case, meetings would need to be rescheduled.

Laura hadn't given her a definite answer, because there was none.

Bill had risen early this morning, leaving her to sprawl across his rack and spend an extra half an hour lying in.

Before he left, he'd bent down and given her a brief kiss, but they hadn't spoken.

For people who talked to each other every day, they had a gift for avoiding conversations that involved themselves as the subject.

Laura was still a stressed-out bundle of nerves. She should feel refreshed, considering she had slept almost the entire night through. As she hadn't slept more than six straight hours since before the Cylon occupation on New Caprica, this was quite a feat.

The comm unit beside her began to buzz. She snatched it up eagerly, keen to avoid having to reflect upon last night yet again. Her caller wasn't going to give her any chance of that, however.

"What time did you get up?"

"Not long after you left. I helped myself to a shower. Hope you don't mind."

"I had to shower this morning too. I used cold water," he remarked, with a playful note in his voice.

She snorted. "I'm sorry," she said insincerely.

Bill said nothing for a few seconds; his breath coming down the line sounded slightly unsteady. "I could get used to it," he finally admitted huskily.

"So could I, but—"

"We don't live in a perfect world, Laura."

A sigh escaped her involuntarily, surprising even her with its intensity.

"I actually rang to tell you I've had to swap a few things around with the refuelling, so I'll be on night duty for the next three nights."

She bit down on her lip, overwhelmed by disappointment.

"It will help me with my nobility anyway," he added.

She should laugh, she knew he was having a joke with her, but suddenly, devastatingly, she knew that she wanted to take that next step with him.

"Nobility's overrated. I think-" She paused, needing to speak carefully so she made herself perfectly clear. "I think I should stay over again, when you finish night shift. And we should give nobility a miss."

"Laura-" he growled down the line.

"Yes, Bill. You've given me enough time. Let's be selfish for just a while."

"When I finish night shift?" he asked, complete wonderment in his tone. "I'm going to lose my mind, thinking about it."

"Are you saying you haven't been thinking about it for the past two years?" she teased, feigning shock.

"You know I have."

"Goodbye, Admiral. We'll talk soon."

She replaced the telephone and giggled. Suddenly a great weight lifted from her shoulders.

.0.

Three days later and they had hardly talked at all. The refuelling was dominating Bill's time and energy. Apart from normal Fleet business, Laura was busy trying to implement the changes that she and Tyrol had agreed to. And of course there was the upcoming trial. She and the prosecutor were meeting on a daily basis to talk strategy.

She and Bill had met once, but had kept their talk strictly to business.

They'd endeavoured to keep their behaviour businesslike too-and had almost succeeded. An observant witness might have noticed the small touches, lingering glances and flirty smiles that she and Bill had shared.

Bill had called her every night, officially to update her on Fleet business, unofficially to check on how she was sleeping. She was loath to admit she was once again pacing the floors on _Colonial One_ at all hours of the night.

Tonight her fingers were crossed that she might enjoy another night of solid sleep. Right after she enjoyed a long satisfying session of sex, of course. She shivered with anticipation.

She opened her wardrobe, flicking through the few meagre outfits on offer. Bill had seen her in everything already. Whatever she chose, she hoped she wouldn't keep it on for very long.

This thought led her to the problem that had plagued her for the last two nights and caused her yet more sleeplessness – the red and swollen skin on her left breast.

The day she made her decision to sleep with Bill, she'd asked Tory to try and source anti-wrinkle cream or an equivalent. The girl had given her a puzzled look, but the next day she supplied Laura with a small amount of a moisturiser originally meant for night time facial use.

Since then, Laura had rubbed it into the puckered skin every morning and night, hoping it was a rash that would fade given time.

Bill would surely make a big deal out of it if he saw it; probably march her straight down to Cottle.

She could keep her bra on, and hope that he thought she was deliberately offering him a tantalising hint of sexiness. That was if the two plain old white bras now in her possession could ever be considered sexy.

She could ask him to turn off the lights. However, that didn't make much sense. It might have been over two years since she'd last had sex, but why would she be acting like a shy virgin around Bill?

She finally settled on wearing her tight-fitting dark green sweater with the three-quarter sleeves, and a matching mid-length skirt. Bill may have seen the ensemble before, but that hadn't stopped his eyes from lingering on the curves the top highlighted.

Laura frowned, realising the bra idea wasn't going to work. Bill would surely want to look and touch. And there was no way she wouldn't want him to touch. The thought of him touching her… She flopped down onto her small cot, unable to stand because of her trembling legs.

She opened the sash of her white gown, and looked down at her breast again. Tracing her fingers over her skin, she felt its roughness, like the skin of an orange. Sighing, she lay down on the bed and stared up at the metallic ceiling above. She would have to tell him. There really was no way he would never notice. Bill noticed things about her when she was fully dressed and talking to him from another ship, let alone when they were naked and in the same bed together.

Laura sat up again, picked up her telephone, and requested a ship-to-ship call.

"Doctor Cottle on _Galactica_, please," she requested.

She waited for a few minutes until finally the communications officer of _Colonial One_ came back on the line.

"I'm sorry, Madam President, _Galactica_ is under attack and all calls are being denied."

Laura froze, gripping the telephone until her knuckles turned white. "Attack?"

"I'll try and find out what's going on, Madam President."

"Thank you," she mumbled.

Laura hunched her shoulders and stretched her neck until she could see out through her room's small window. _Galactica_ sat in formation as she always did. No damage was visible.

"Madam President? I'm putting you through to _Galactica_ actual," her communications officer told her about fifteen minutes later.

She sighed with relief. "Bill? What's wrong? What's going on?"

"Madam President. I'm sorry, the Admiral has left CIC."

"Dee? What's going on? I was told you were under attack."

"No Cylon Raiders have attacked _Galactica_, ma'am. But a Viper has been lost." Dee's voice was shaky, in sharp contrast to her usual calm demeanour.

"Lee?" Laura gulped.

"No, Captain Apollo's Viper has been accounted for." Dee dragged in a deep breath. "No, it's Starbuck. Starbuck is dead."

Laura felt a sharp pain shoot through her body. Kara was dead?... But she'd just seen the girl; had watched her give Bill a piece for his model ship.

This couldn't be right. Kara was destined to die during a refuelling mission? Kara was meant to go out with a blaze of glory – not this…

"What happened?" Laura finally asked.

"It's not clear yet, but she flew into the wormhole and..."

"I see. The Admiral?"

"He's returned to his quarters," Dee informed her. "And requested no calls unless there was a Cylon attack."

"No, no, of course not. Leave him for now. Thank you, Dee," she said, hanging up.

Laura slowly returned the green sweater and skirt to their place in the wardrobe before moving to her dressing table.

She smoothed some cream into the roughened skin of her breast. Then she turned off her light and huddled underneath the covers of her cot.

Tears welled in her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. Kara had been such a fighter. And she'd had Bill in her corner, taking punch after punch for her.

And yet, she was still dead.


	5. Chapter 5

Bill was sitting at his desk, a drink by his side and a pile of paperwork in front of him, when Laura entered his quarters.

She'd left him alone the night before, and had shuttled over first thing this morning.

She made her way to his side, but paused near the couch to retrieve a few pieces of the broken model ship that lay scattered across the carpet.

"Wanna drink?" he rasped.

"No, thanks. Are you ready for company yet, or do you want me to leave?"

"No. Stay."

"Okay," she agreed, moving to stand behind him and massage his tight shoulders. "I'm sorry, honey," she whispered, leaning down to place a small kiss where his thick hair curled around his ear.

Laura felt a shudder run through his body. "Wasn't what I was expecting to do last night," he said.

"There'll be other nights."

She surprised herself with this promise. She shouldn't promise anything until after she saw Cottle.

She traced soothing circles across his shoulders and down to his back.

"Do you think any other couple has ever had worse timing than us?" she asked.

He reached behind him and grabbed her hand, dragging her bodily to settle onto his lap before burying his head against her chest. Laura wrapped her arms around him, kissing wherever she could reach.

"You admit we're a couple?"

"Couple of old fools?" she teased. "Yes, Bill. It might be wrong, but you're my best friend and the only man for me," she vowed, clutching him closer.

"What if this is my fault?" he mumbled into her cleavage. "What if I was too wrapped up in your proposal to see that Kara's state of mind had taken a turn for the worse? What if I was right at the dance?"

"You were right. I've never denied that. But we can't always do the right thing."

She remained silent for a long time, comforting him by holding him close.

"Do you want to be alone again, tonight?" Laura asked him eventually.

"No. I'll just end up drinking myself into a stupor," he admitted frankly. "Will you join me for dinner instead? I'll understand if you don't want to stay, though. I won't be the best company."

"Don't be such an idiot, Bill," she chided gently.

Laura got up. "I have to go," she said reluctantly. "I've got some things I need to take care of. But I'll be back at around six."

"Okay."

She left him shuffling some of the papers around his desk, making a feeble attempt to stay busy.

She headed in the direction of sickbay. She couldn't put off seeing Cottle any longer.

.0.0.0

However, a week later, Laura still hadn't seen Cottle. Every time she'd found the resolve to go and see him or call him, he wasn't aboard _Galactica_, and she'd cowardly tell his staff that the problem wasn't urgent.

She and Bill had returned to their regular routine of dining together every night.

Unfortunately, they seemed to have taken a step back from the intimacy they were sharing prior to Kara's death. Laura was still thinking about the irregular skin on her breast, which had not faded despite her best efforts with the lotion, and Bill was still mourning his surrogate daughter.

In fact, their conversations carefully avoided anything to do with Kara or their planned rendezvous on the night she died. Instead they focused on neutral subjects, like they had when they'd first met: literature, arts, food, music. Nothing controversial, nothing personal.

Other than a quick kiss as she arrived and left, they had also not touched each other since she'd comforted him the morning after Kara's death.

Bill hadn't suggested that she stay over again. Laura didn't question why she found this so disappointing. It was what she had wanted, after all.

"I'm not going to let him slime his way out of this one," she declared, unconsciously shifting closer to Bill as they sat side by side, watching through the glass as Didi Cassidy interviewed Baltar.

"Gods, listen to his drivel." She rose abruptly, making a sudden decision. "Take me home, Bill," she pleaded. "I need a shower."

"Of course," Bill agreed immediately.

"Tory, I'll be staying in the Admiral's quarters tonight. Make sure my meetings on _Galactica_ are bumped up to first thing in the morning. And can you please arrange for some clean clothes to be sent over?"

She saw a faint scowl flicker across Tory's features, but, wisely, the girl didn't voice her misgivings.

Laura tried not to notice Bill's reaction to her request. His hopeful gaze would be just as difficult to bear as Tory's disapproving one. Instead, she busied herself with collecting some folders from Tory's briefcase, threw one final look of disgust over her shoulder in Baltar's direction, and left the brig, letting Bill lead her towards his quarters.

Along the way she gave only a fleeting thought to the unexpectedness of staying the night with Bill again. Tonight, for a change, all her thoughts could be on him, and having sex with him, instead of the trial or the irregular skin on her breast.

They paused outside the hatch. Bill had to return to CIC for a while, but they agreed that she could use his bathroom and make a start on her paperwork before he returned with their dinner.

Laura was soon stripping off and stepping into Bill's shower. As usual, she turned the water up as hot as possible, enjoying the stinging pressure the showers on _Galactica_ always offered.

As the water poured over her back, she pressed her fingers into her left breast, searching again for lumps. Her nightly breast examinations had become obsessive.

As she swept her hand across, intending to examine the other breast, her fingers accidentally brushed against her nipple. She cried out as a surge of pain lanced sharply through her. The nipple and areola were swollen and reddened; when she pressed her trembling fingers into the tender spot, a discoloured and bloody discharge seeped out.

Stumbling, she backed into the cold tile of Bill's shower. Her legs gave way and the sound of her sobs vibrated around the cubicle.

0.0.0.

Laura sat on the edge of Bill's rack, picked up the telephone and dialled the number she unfortunately knew by heart.

It rang once, twice, three times, before a gruff, sleepy voice came on the line.

"This better be an emergency," it barked.

She didn't bother to introduce herself.

"I have a patch of rough skin on my breast. I've had it a few weeks."

Her revelation was met with silence.

"Tonight my nipple discharged fluid and blood."

More silence followed for a long minute, until finally she heard the distinctive click of a lighter.

"I'll expect you here at eight o'clock in the morning for an ultrasound. I don't care what the hell you had planned - meetings, conferences or whatever – you'll be here at eight o'clock promptly, or I'll embarrass you by sending Marines to drag you here by the scruff of your neck. Do I make myself clear, young lady?"

She nodded mutely, and then added a quiet 'yes' when she realised he couldn't see her.

"This is where you tell me I'm jumping to conclusions and not to worry," she prompted.

"Have you told the Admiral?" he asked instead.

"No."

"I think you should," his voice was quiet, gentle, unlike his usual gruff tone. "He's a good man. If we're going to fight this properly this time, we're gonna need his help."


	6. Chapter 6

Laura was huddled under Bill's blanket when he came in. She lay still, pretending to be asleep. He crept around, setting what she presumed was a dinner tray on the dining table, and her duffle bag of clothes sent over by Tory on the floor near the rack.

Then she heard the head hatch open and shut, and the sound of the shower running.

She must have truly drifted off to sleep for a while, as the next thing she felt was the rack's mattress dipping as Bill settled behind her.

She was facing the bulkhead, her left breast squashed into the mattress. Bill ran his hand down her right side, taking in the fact that she was completely naked.

"Do you think the reason we've never had sex is that we're afraid we won't be compatible in bed?" Laura whispered.

"What?"

"I mean, we like each other so much, and respect each other," she continued. "What if things aren't as good as we think they'll be? We need to keep working together. We need to keep seeing each other regularly. Is that the reason, do you think? That it will be so damn awkward if it's terrible?"

"It won't be terrible," he answered confidently, stroking the bare skin from her hip down to her knee and back again.

"How do you know?" she persisted, despite the fact that she was trembling with desire just from the touch of his hand on her leg.

"Because if it's terrible, you can show me what you liked and what you didn't, and I'll show you what I liked and what I didn't, and we can try it again until we both agree it's not terrible," he promised huskily near her ear.

"Dammit, Bill," she snapped, suddenly completely frustrated, "we haven't got our act together to do it once, and you're talking about practice makes perfect?"

His hand left her leg and rubbed against her pubic mound before adding: "Let's see how perfect it can be without practice then."

She gave in, arching her body and tilting her head back to expose her neck to his seeking mouth; lifting her hips to push eagerly into his hand.

He hooked her right leg over his hips, his knuckles caressing the inside of her thigh. She quivered when she felt them lightly sweep across her dark curls as Bill moved to concentrate on her other thigh.

His tongue suckled its way up to her ear, where it swirled into the cavity there at the same time as his fingers finally parted her.

She bit down hard on her bottom lip to stop from crying out. It had been so long since a man had touched her so intimately. In fact, no man had probably ever touched her this intimately. Bill seemed determined to explore every part of her. Those big hands of his were dipping into her now-moist vagina; massaging and caressing around her labia; his thumb wickedly flicking at her clit every few seconds.

"This all feels good so far," he rumbled next to her ear.

She mumbled incoherently and writhed beneath him as a finger pressed further into her, curling against the inner wall.

"Not terrible at all," he said, manipulating her body until he could reach her breast and suck the nipple deep into his mouth.

Her stomach clenched with pleasure, as well as relief that the angle meant that his ministrations were directed at her healthy breast.

Her hips rose off the mattress and she groaned loudly when his fingers slipped out of her vagina and began to rub slow circles around her clitoris.

His teeth pulled and twisted her nipple as his fingers pulled and twisted her clit, leaving her little to do but whimper and push herself wantonly against his hand, pleading for more.

Then, with a swiftness she hadn't been expecting, he twisted around until his head was buried between her legs. She grabbed a fistful of his thick hair as his rough tongue dragged along her folds, settling over her clit.

He attacked her with his tongue, mouth and teeth until she was begging for more, begging to the Gods, begging for him to stop because she couldn't take it any longer.

He ignored her request, continuing until he made her cry out softly, her nails digging into his shoulders as her body rocked and moisture flooded into his mouth. Through the fog of her orgasm she heard him chuckle before he slowly drank her in, carefully avoiding any more direct stimulation until she calmed.

"Bill?" she panted.

"Yeah?" he spoke against her thigh.

"I need to touch you," she admitted, suddenly self-conscious that she had been just lying back while he made love to her and not really taking any active part other than enjoying his obvious skill.

"Sure," he said good-naturedly.

He flipped onto his back, as usual completely unembarrassed by his nakedness. He'd told her once that life aboard battlestars and freighters soon cured you of any inhibitions.

"Well?" Bill taunted. "You gonna touch?"

"Yes," she squeaked.

She actually wanted to touch him everywhere, his dark skin and solid body such a contrast to her own.

He lolled his head back, and his eyes drifted shut.

She giggled at his dreamy expression. "I haven't done anything yet, Bill."

"Do whatever you want," he offered. "Anything will be good."

She started with his arms, sweeping her hands up and down them, squeezing and holding onto their hard strength. She remembered when she'd seen his bare arms for the first time; and how her reaction had been less than presidential. There was a lot she found attractive about Bill physically, but his arms remained her favourite feature. Her heart still skipped a beat every time he wrapped them around her, or offered one for her to lean on.

She moved onto stroke his chest. His lack of body hair fascinated her. It was one thing she would have never guessed about him. She leaned down and licked at the faint sheen of sweat that was there already, tasting him.

She lowered her hand, surprisingly eager to touch his erection. She didn't particularly find men's penises the most intriguing body part. She liked the feel of them inside her, but she wasn't a woman who studied them in detail or compared their sizes and shapes. But Bill's…

Her hand wrapped gently around it and lifted it away from where it sat against his belly. She softly ran her hand up to the tip, palming the head. She grinned when this light touch evoked a moan from Bill.

She bent over him, dropping her mouth down the shaft, tightening her lips and sucking hard as she came back up.

"You're soft."

"Excuse me?" he spluttered.

She massaged his balls and thighs.

"You look so hard and rough, but you feel soft," she dipped her head and swallowed his erection again, twirling her tongue on the upward stroke.

"I'm an old man, Laura. That's as hard as it's gonna get."

She gripped him and twisted gently with her hand, causing him to groan again. "You're deliberately misunderstanding me," she berated, but with a smile. She cocked her head to one side and studied his size intently. "I think you can proudly frequent the unisex heads."

"You're not supposed to look. That's a rule," he murmured as she worked him back into her mouth.

Laura felt his hands tangle into the thickness of her hair, but he never tried to push or guide her anywhere with them.

She felt herself grow wetter, imagining how he'd fill her.

"Bill," she gasped, rising up and straddling him. "I need…" she hummed happily as she lowered herself slowly onto him, feeling herself stretch around his girth.

"See…" he managed to say breathlessly, "not terrible at all."

"No." She gave the word three syllables. Then, she dragged out the word 'yes' until it almost had four.

Her fingers moved back to once again exploring his chest, his scar, his shoulders, as she rocked on top of him.

"So soft, but so hard," she murmured.

"Yeah, like these," he said, capturing her swaying breasts in his hands before she had time to think. His thumbs rubbed across her nipples. A pain shot up her left side, causing her to yelp.

He immediately stilled beneath her, his expression confused.

"Laura…"

She placed her fingers over his lips, shushing him. "Later," she said, tears gathering in her eyes.

Removing his hand from her left breast, she increased their tempo, avoiding his searching gaze.

"Laura?" he said her name questioningly but her only answer was to squeeze her eyes shut. She felt his fingers gently brush against the rough skin on the side of her breast.

"Please, Bill… Don't stop…"

She gasped with relief when he gave into her order, his hips lifting.

"Gods help me, I can't," he rasped.

She flushed, her palms spread across his pectoral muscles. The angle of their joined bodies brought a satisfying friction against her clit every time he thrust up into her.

"I can't last much longer," he admitted.

She lifted and lowered herself faster. She was almost there.

His fingers found and rubbed her clit, and that was all it took. She toppled over the edge with another little scream.

She opened her eyes just in time to see Bill coming beneath her. But his look of pleasure was fleeting. As she met his gaze she saw his eyes were already red rimmed and tears were streaming down his cheeks.

She collapsed onto the mattress beside him and let him wrap his arms around her, holding her tight.

After a few minutes, he pulled back and carefully cupped her left breast. Then, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss onto the rippled skin.

"What did Cottle say?"

"I'm seeing him in the morning."

She silently urged him to pull her into his embrace again. He did so.

Nothing was going to be easy from now on. But she had to believe that with Bill in her corner, taking some of the punches, they'd both be still standing when the final bell rang.


	7. Chapter 7

Laura blinked, trying desperately to clear the fog from her mind.

Bill sat in the chair beside her cot, dozing quietly. Lately, he'd barely left her side, staying with her while she was subjected to a series of X-rays and blood tests and ultrasounds and biopsies. Two days after the first test, Cottle had finally delivered his verdict. Her cancer had returned.

"Hey," she croaked.

Bill jerked awake immediately. He leaned forward and offered her a sip of water from the glass on the bedside table.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"I don't feel too much at all," she replied in a less raspy voice. "Maybe the anaesthetic hasn't worn off completely yet." Laura lifted her right arm gingerly where the drip was attached. "My arm's a little sore." She smiled at the irony.

"I'll go find out if they can take it out for you."

"You'll come back?" she asked in a needy voice that she hardly recognised as her own.

Bill bent down and kissed her sweetly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Did Cottle tell you how much he cut out?" she asked as he rose to leave.

"About the size of a twenty cubit piece." He tenderly pushed her hair back from her forehead. "I'll go tell him you're awake, and he can talk to you about it."

Laura watched Bill go with a mixture of anxiety and pride.

The rattle of the curtain interrupted her thoughts. Ishay wanted to take her temperature and blood pressure.

After scribbling the results on the chart at the end of her cot, the medic set a tray in front of her. "Madam President, once you've eaten something, I can take that drip out, " the young girl ordered in her very correct Libran accent.

Laura had just lifted the lid and was scrunching up her nose at the latest algae offering when Bill returned with Cottle.

The doctor picked up her chart and studied it briefly before gesturing to Bill to sit down.

"I've found some chamalla for you," he told Laura. "Same rules apply as last time; take the recommended dosage only. I'm not convinced it suppresses cancer cell regeneration, but I must admit your previous tumour didn't grow at the speed I would have expected while you were taking it. Plus, it might help to ease some of the side effects of the diloxin."

Laura took a deep breath, attempting to block out the memories of her mother's diloxin treatments and the terrible side effects they'd caused.

"I know your mother tried diloxin," Cottle continued, as if reading her mind, "but every patient reacts differently to it. So, I'm going to go over the possibilities with you one more time. After each treatment you are to tell me exactly what your symptoms are so we can put together a plan to manage them. We'll introduce complementary medicines to combat each particular side effect, so we need to get it right. "

Laura nodded dully.

"Okay, well, there are a few that we can't prevent," he admitted with a grimace. "Nausea, anaemia and fatigue. They'll be facts of life, and we'll just have to deal with them as best we can."

Laura's gaze flicked over to Bill. His face was a stoic mask, however, and she couldn't determine what he was feeling.

"Problems with appetite are common. You could have trouble swallowing, and you could notice changes in your sense of smell or taste." Cottle glanced at the food on her tray. "That could work to your advantage," he joked. Neither she nor Bill laughed.

The doctor fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his packet of cigarettes. He shoved one into his mouth, but didn't light it.

"You will probably suffer from either constipation or diarrhoea; you'll have to tell me which, so we can tackle the problem correctly. Muscle degeneration occurs naturally from the core side effects, as you can imagine, but in about one in three patients the diloxin will accelerate the problem. The muscles get weak, fatigue sets in, and the patient becomes bedridden."

The cigarette wobbled around in his mouth with each word.

"You could suffer from involuntary muscle movements, most commonly trembling hands; your skin could be itchy and red; your nails might become brittle or discoloured; and one in four patients experiences hair loss."

Cottle paused, and looked up at them expectantly.

"You're a lousy salesman," Laura murmured with a small smile. Then, she turned to Bill and reached for his hand. He quickly took it. So much had changed since Cottle had given her that same witty line.

"Sex," Cottle suddenly said.

She blinked in shock. Bill's hand gripped hers a little harder.

"Excuse me?" she managed to squeak out.

"You won't be able to have sex for forty-eight hours after each treatment. Well, you could if I could find you some condoms, but things being as they are, I'll just hope you're both old enough to show some restraint." He cleared his throat and looked around the room uncomfortably, not meeting her or Bill's eyes. "You might not feel like sex anyway. You could suffer from menopausal-like symptoms: vaginal dryness, hot flashes, irregular periods."

Before either she or Bill could make any type of comment, whether it be denial or otherwise, he quickly went on to give her the date and time of her first treatment. Laura frowned as she recognised the date.

"I can't. That's the first day of the trial."

"Tough," Cottle barked in reply. "I think we need to be clear on this, young lady. Everything you do is important. I know that. You'll always be busy. The crises started two years ago, and we haven't had much of a break between them. So, there will be no excuses. It doesn't matter how important that Quorum meeting is, or how much we all want to see Baltar squirm in the witness box. Your health is going to come first. Understood?"

0.0.0.

Laura gripped Bill's ass, bringing his lower body as close as she could to hers. He twisted his hips and his thrusts sped up.

"Bill," she gasped as her entire body trembled. She froze for a moment, enjoying her body's pleasurable reaction as she climaxed.

When she could finally focus again, she saw Bill's intense gaze boring into her. She buried her head into his shoulder and dug her nails into his back, encouraging him to finish. Within a few seconds, he came, grunting her name in approval.

She relaxed her grip, allowing Bill to slip out of her. He rolled over quickly and settled beside her. She closed her eyes, realising that he was being particularly gentle with her because of the operation she'd had the day before. And that made her perversely angry.

Cottle had performed keyhole surgery. She had the tiniest possible wound. She'd checked with Cottle, and there was no risk of her bursting her stitches.

She stood abruptly and started pulling her clothes on.

"Where you going?" Bill asked.

"I have a meeting with Tom at eight in the morning."

"So we're working our schedule around _Tom's_ now?"

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you Bill," she snapped.

"Why don't you just admit you're running away? You deliberately scheduled that meeting as an excuse not to stay the night."

Laura sighed. He was right; she had, but not for the reasons he thought. She was falling in love; that was becoming clearer to her with each passing day. But she had spent the last ten years carefully closing her heart down for business. She didn't think it was going to be possible to turn the sign around to 'open' again without a fight.

"I don't want to fight, Bill," she murmured.

"I do." He sprang up and grabbed her upper arms. "I know you only gave in and let yourself do this because you knew about the cancer—"

"What?" she interrupted. She shook her head. "That's what you think? That I'm using you? That this is the classic 'I want to have sex one more time before I die' scenario?"

Bill's chin jutted in the air. "Isn't it?"

She shook her head again. It wasn't true. She had not so long ago desperately been hoping to be cancer free so they _could_ be together.

"You're not ever planning to live here permanently, are you? You'll always think of an excuse."

She gulped. How could he have got everything so wrong? And, more importantly, could she let him keep believing that?

"This," she gestured to the rack, "isn't what I expected, Bill," she said truthfully.

He sighed and sat down on the rack, looking old and defeated. It broke her heart that she was putting that look on his face.

"I thought you were enjoying this. I thought I told you to tell me if I did something you weren't happy with."

"That's not what I mean."

"Tell me," he ordered huskily.

"I was looking forward to sex with you. I thought it would be fun. You're the only person who understands my sense of humour. You're the only person who makes me laugh."

"Hmph."

"I thought our sex life would be an extension of our flirting. But it's not… Maybe that first time, until you saw..." She vaguely gestured to her breast. "But since then, it's... It's not what I expected… This intensity, this demand on my emotions, this…" She looked over at him and met his gaze. "This love. I'm just not ready for this kind of love."

"I am," he replied simply.

She snorted, and tears welled in her eyes. She lowered herself onto his lap and leaned her head against his chest. "It's just too much sometimes, when I have everything else going on as well. I just need to step back occasionally. That doesn't mean I won't ever step forward again."

"You need time—"

"Oh Gods, Bill, don't be so understanding! It drives me crazy!" Her grin contradicted her words.

She leaned over and they kissed-full mouthed, with their tongues lacing. After they parted she touched his cheek softly before standing. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"After you see frakkin' Zarek," he grumbled.

She laughed. "Just remember, honey, Zarek wasn't there when Cottle gave his sex education speech. That must tell you something, at least."

"That Cottle's a romantic old fool?"

She kissed him again, and almost wavered from her decision to leave. "Maybe, but maybe I like romantic old fools," she whispered against his lips before resolutely standing and leaving his quarters.


	8. Chapter 8

"Tory, could you please arrange something from the galley for my dinner tonight?"

Tory made no effort to hide her surprise. "Dinner? You're not dining on _Galactica_?"

"No," Laura snapped, and looked back down at her paperwork.

Had it really been so long since she had eaten here, on her own ship, and not with Bill? And how was this arrangement continuing to fly under the press corps's radar? The situation couldn't last.

She tore off a sheet of blank paper.

_I wish to make an announcement_, she wrote. _I have enjoyed just over a year of remission. However, tests have recently revealed that my cancer has returned._

Laura rested her head on the desk. This was going to be the most difficult speech she'd ever written. After a long moment, she picked up her pen and started again.

_I have decided to fight this disease with all the medical treatments at my disposal. These treatments can only be administered on Galactica. Therefore, I will be relocating to the Battlestar for the foreseeable future. _

She read through the draft. That didn't sound so bad. Of course, she had deliberately omitted one small, but vital, point. That her relocation would not only be to _Galactica_, but to the Commanding Officer's quarters.

She gulped, and the paper in her hand shook. Was she really going to agree to live with Bill? She hadn't lived with anyone for over twenty years. And he hadn't been someone she had to work with as well. Did they really think they could make this work?

"Tory, can you please get the Admiral on the line?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And then take a break," she ordered, knowing Tory wasn't ignorant enough not to understand her request for some privacy.

She picked up the handset after the call was connected. "Admiral."

"Hey."

"Hello," she said, in a throatier tone. From his casual greeting, she guessed Bill was able to speak with some privacy as well.

"How'd your meeting with Zarek go?" he asked.

She curled the cord around her finger. He was so transparent when it came to her Vice President. However, he knew she would never look twice at Tom Zarek. "Oh, Bill, jealousy is such an unattractive trait," she teased.

"Hmph."

"I was thinking…"

"Yeah?" he prompted when she paused.

"What happens the first time we argue?"

"What happens now when we argue? You think I'm going to throw you out of my quarters the first time we raise our voices?"

She snorted. "No, I guess not."

"Does that question mean I should have hope?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes," she repeated, affirming her decision, "I'll pack tonight."

"I love you."

"I know. That's enough."

.0.0.

Laura walked into her room and picked up the small, battered suitcase Tory had borrowed from another passenger. Slowly, she opened it and began to hang her suits back up into her compact wardrobe. After she was completely finished unpacking, she sank down onto her cot, suddenly completely exhausted and ready to give up.

The telephone began to buzz behind her. For a brief moment, she contemplated ignoring it. Finally, she reached out for the handset.

"Roslin," she breathed.

"Hey," came a familiar greeting from a familiar voice.

She closed her eyes, feeling the sting of tears burning them already.

"If you asked me a week ago what excuses I thought you'd come up with to avoid moving in," he said, "this wouldn't have been one I'd have guessed."

"Remember that night," she said, changing the subject, "that Starbuck piloted my Raptor just before she died? I told her she should just let Sam ask how her day was."

She paused; that seemed like such a long time ago. So much had happened since then.

"She said it was difficult for her because she was a fighter."

"She was," Bill agreed. "So are you, Laura."

"That's just it, Bill. I was ready to stop fighting. I was ready to accept that intensity of yours. I was ready to just give in and let you ask how my day was."

She frowned, realising that Bill probably had no idea what she was talking about.

"I've spent the past four hours trying to think of a valid reason why you shouldn't be appointed as a judge. I've cursed myself for not considering this possibility earlier; for not removing your name from the pool; for inviting the press to the draw. But, apparently, the outcome is set in stone," she said as hot, angry tears started to stream down her cheeks. "You will be one of the five judges for Baltar's trial, and I'll be the star witness for the prosecution. There is no way we can move in together until after the trial finishes."

"Yeah," he agreed with a long sigh.

"Would it be petty of me to say that once again my life has been frakked up because of Gaius frakkin' Baltar?"

Bill's rich chuckle rumbled down the line, stemming her tears of frustration at least for the time being.

"As soon as the trial's over, Madam President."

"As soon as the trial's over, Admiral." She lay down on the cot, closing her eyes. "Good night, Admiral. I… I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Madam President."

.0.0.

Laura was sitting on the couch, considering which book to read next from the pile at her feet, when Bill stormed into his quarters.

"What?" she asked.

"What is Tory doing?"

"Filing?" she suggested facetiously.

"Don't be glib," he growled, before heading to the drinks' cart and pouring himself a shot of rotgut.

She got up and followed him. He kept his back to her, his shoulders stiff.

"Hey." She softened her voice as she patted his sleeve. "I don't know what I've done."

He sighed, but didn't turn. "Tory has requisitioned guest quarters for the President."

"Oh."

"Yeah - oh."

"There are none available. So I'll have to stay here."

"I ask you to come and live with me, and you agree, but only until you find guest quarters?"

She hummed. "Something like that. From what Tory reported back to me, guest quarters won't be available for some time," she replied smoothly.

He turned his sad eyes in her direction. "And when they are?"

"When they are, I move a couple of things into them. I still keep my desk here, still have dinner with you, still come here after my treatments so you can hold me and whisper into my ear until the nausea passes-," she took a steadying breath before continuing, "-still use all your hot water, still steal your blanket in the night. But if anyone asks, the President isn't in bed with the Admiral, she's down the hall, in her guest quarters."

He peered at her over the rim of his glass. "So, this is all for appearance's sake?"

"No," she drawled, "not completely." She tilted her head to one side, and narrowed her eyes. "Now and then, I may just need to be alone," she admitted truthfully. "Bill, I've lived by myself for a long time." She shrugged. "It's nothing you've done."

He took another swig , then stared into the bottom of the glass, avoiding her gaze. She reached out and rested her hand on the sleeve of his uniform, but he ignored it.

"I feel like I'm ready to explode, Laura," he admitted quietly. "I voted to acquit Baltar. I lost my daughter, only to have her return as Gods know what." He expelled a long shuddering breath. "I found a woman I could love at the end of the worlds, only to be told I could lose her before I convince her to love me back."

"Bill…"

"No. Don't say it because you pity me."

She bit down on her lip. In a way she did pity him. She pitied how he would be after she died. If she admitted to loving him, she'd be condemning him. The only way she could lessen the pain she was going to cause him was to have him believe she hadn't fallen for him as hard as he claimed to have fallen for her. She needed to fight the idea of love until she couldn't fight it any longer. She would save his soul by not saying the words he desperately wanted to hear.

But perhaps she could say it with her body, just this once, because soon – too soon – she was not going to be able to do even that.

"Would you make love to me?" she pleaded. She no longer called it 'sex'. She would acknowledge at least that she and Bill didn't just have sex.

"You're okay?" he asked, his voice still gruff from his earlier confession.

She held out her hand for him to take. It almost broke her heart when he hesitated, but finally he grasped it and let her lead him to their rack.

They helped each other undress, and lay down face to face. Her hands spread across his chest for a long while, just finding strength in knowing he was here with her, beside her, for her. Then, she slid her fingers down lower, following his scar until she placed her hand directly over his heart.

"This is enough?" he asked.

She let her head sway closer and she kissed him.

"For now," she whispered against his lips.

The time would come when she'd stop fighting, and want more.

It would probably be a day like today, when he was doing something that made her fall in love with him all over again; just like he'd said had happened to him on Founders Day. On that day she'd finally admit to him how much she loved him. But until that time, she'd take what she could, and make it enough.

THE END


End file.
